I’ll be the first to admit it. I fight daily with the little devil on my shoulder. That being tells me lies.
I feel it so vividly – the tensions of being a stay at home mom, a lack of validation in the culture at large for motherhood or stay at home parents, and the voice inside me telling me almost every day “It’s not enough! Do more, be significant, something special.” A lot of my poetry recently has come out of that place.
God has reminded me, for some reason, of the truth that we never know whose mother we are — in that we don’t know who our children will become. If we knew that our sons or daughters, nieces or nephews, would grow up to be the next Barack Obama, or Madeleine L’Engle, Joan Chittister, or Scot McKnight, or Michelangelo, whomever, would we look at parenting, at mothering, differently?
They all had mothers.
Fathers. Aunties and Uncles.
Your role in the life of a child is a role that only you can fulfill even though most days you likely consider it insignificant.
This post was inspired in some part by reading this.